


Man Enough

by 7billionothersandme



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bisexual Jack, Coming Out, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Studying, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, loose grasp of time, trans shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7billionothersandme/pseuds/7billionothersandme
Summary: Shitty had been planning on staying stealth until he left college, but one motherfucker managed to worm his way in and ruin the plan





	Man Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [OMGCP_Heartbreak_Fest_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OMGCP_Heartbreak_Fest_2017) collection. 



> Prompt Details: stealth afab trans!shitty hiding his identity from everyone after how his family reacted until he finally feels comfortable enough to open up to jack  
> Additional Info: jack then opening up to shitty about his sexuality would be top, bonus if lardo is also in on things
> 
> There's no super explicit transphobia like slurs or anything, and when i say tape i mean using the safe KT tape method please dont bind your whole chest with tape thank you

He’s been coping with the steady thrum of anxiety under his skin ever since he got to Samwell. He laughs as loud as he can and talks too much and slaps people on the back a little more than necessary. Half of him revels in how much deeper his voice has gotten while the other half repeats his father’s words on a loop in his mind. _You will always be my daughter, no matter what silly ideas you get into your head._

Sometimes he thinks that outright anger would have been easier to deal with, he could have yelled back, packed a bag, and left. But the sinister calmness with which his father dismissed him would have been as pointless to retaliate against as fighting smoke. Any carefully crafted argument would be rebutted with a casual remark without his father moving his eyes away from his copy of the Wall Street Journal.

So instead, he opened a new bank account under his own name, with no affiliation to his father.  He transferred all the money he would need for buying T, tape, packers, anything he needed to ease the itch under his skin every time he was read as female. The one thing he was thankful for was that he was already so tall and lanky.

Which brought him to standing in his Freshman dorm at Samwell University, where they were gonna let him play freaking _Men’s_ Hockey, because he was a capital-M Man. Granted they had first offered he play on the woman’s team, but with some well-placed phone calls and emails that had swiftly been changed.  

But, he stays hidden. The chance that telling anyone would result in ostracization is still weighs on his mind near constantly. The energy it takes to be checking himself, whether he’s walking right, talking right, is exhausting. But he bros it up, gets a nickname, _Shitty_ , and is on good terms with most of the team.

If they all like his bro-y exterior well enough they won’t think to look any deeper than his baby ‘tache and lanky frame.

Except one motherfucker manages to slip through his carefully constructed exterior and get close enough for him to question his decision to stay stealth for the entirety of college, if not his whole life.

Shitty’s not quite sure how on earth he managed it but Jack Zimmermann, son of Hockey God, Bad Bob Zimmerman stuck himself like a limpet to Shitty’s side the first day of training and hasn’t left since. It’s probably in part because Shitty was the first to shoot down the bullshit rumours that had immediately started when Jack walked into Faber, and also in part, he likes to think, due to his gregarious nature.

It had started with Jack just sticking by Shitty’s side at practice, and had quickly become meeting before team breakfast, walking to class, hanging out in each other’s dorms. “Real bro shit,” Shitty had referred to it once and Jack had cracked a small smile down at his shoes. He didn’t smile often so Shitty counted it as a victory and thought _maybe, maybe one day I can tell him._

 

* * *

 

Shitty shakes the little baggy to move the weed down to the bottom, “You want any bro?”

Jack glances up at the bag, does something weird with his face, and shakes his head. Shitty shrugs. He, personally, has been loving weed since senior year of high school, but he knows Jack’s situation is vastly different. Even if his awareness of that difference is a fairly nebulous thing made up of assumptions and gossip and some information Jack has actually told him.

“To each their own, my dude. You mind if I light up? I’ll blow the smoke out the window.” Jack just shrugs and makes a non-committal noise, continuing to stare down at his notes.

Shitty shrugs in return and gets to rolling. He doesn’t think that his constant vague worry of being outed needs to be like _a thing_ , but god the weed just helps to soften the edge on how self-aware he keeps himself. It’s nice to just chill for a little while.

After a few puffs he’s beginning to feel a vague tingle in his hands, like they’re slowly disconnecting from himself and his thoughts feel like molasses.

“Jack?” Shitty rolls his head up to look at the ceiling.

Jack hums to let Shitty know he’s listening.

“Do you think there’s any truth to that ‘1 in 4 maybe more’ thing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think the team is a representative sample.” Jacks voice is still quiet and flat, but it halts slightly, like he’s unsure. Something about it rubs Shitty the wrong way so he slides off the desk and goes to throw himself down next to Jack. The cold draught from the window was annoying him anyway.

“I think it is...Not the team thing, the Samwell thing.” He pushes his head onto Jack’s lap, effectively pushing his notes off the bed. Jack sighs, but relents and puts them safely to one side.

“And even if it isn’t, it’s a nice idea. Some sort of gay sanctuary, where folks can flourish and be themselves away from shitty parents and-” his throat closes up involuntarily, fuck, he isn’t high enough for how deep he’s getting.

Jack combs his fingers gently through Shitty’s hair. He’d started growing it out at the same time as the moustache, finding something satisfying about giving an extra fuck you to gender roles. The action calms his heart a little and he gets himself under control again. He can tell Jack. He’s safe here.

“Jack-”, the words stick in his throat and _fuck_ he thought he was ready for this. It strikes him that he hasn’t even really said the words aloud to himself before. With his dad, it had been more of ripping off a band-aid so he didn’t have to question himself on his dad’s awfulness. This is different. Being pushed away by Jack would probably break his heart.

“-you’re a good guy. You know that, right?” he finishes with, jaw slightly clenched and eyes looking anywhere other than Jack’s stupid sad baby blues.

Jack smiles sadly down at him, just one side of his mouth curving up slightly, like he knows that wasn’t what he was going to say, “Thanks, Shits.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

With mid-terms coming up, alongside the season progressively getting tougher, Shitty finds himself with much less free time and a hell of a lot more time spent between Faber and Founders.  Jack is usually with him, back hunched over a desk or eyes laser-focused on the ice. But even when Shitty’s calling it a night Jack always stays behind to cover one more chapter or run a few more drills.

Frankly the amount of work Jack’s doing and the amount of sleep he’s obviously not getting is beginning to show. His muscles are always tense, the bags under his eyes are dark and he smiles even less than usual. Shitty tries to keep an eye on him, make sure he drinks and eats and periodically reminds him to take breaks but he doesn’t want to baby him either, the guy is older than him by three years after all.

So, he does end up feeling momentarily a little guilty when he goes to meet Jack for morning skate and finds him retching and shaking on the floor of his en-suite.

He breaths in a sharp, “Fuck,” before rushing forward to crouch in the doorway.

“Hey, bud, you okay?” The question seems dumb even as it leaves his mouth and he winces a little.

Jack doesn’t respond save for taking a shallow shuddering breath against the toilet bowl. A little frantically Shitty goes to the sink and searches for some pills, he runs into the room and checks the drawers and cupboards, nothing. Don’t most people with anxiety disorders get some sort of medication? He runs back to Jack and decides he’ll offer what he’s got.

“Hey dude, is it okay if I hold your hand?” Shitty waits a moment, then gently pries one Jack’s cold hands open, and wraps his own around it, “Now, I’m gonna move your huge hockey ass so your leaning against me instead of this unforgiving and frigid wall okay?”

Jack manages to squeeze Shitty’s hand more tightly and lets Shitty pull him into his lap, “Okay big guy, now I’m gonna put my other hand on your chest and we’re gonna breath together.”

He focuses on taking the most calming and even breaths he can, and he feels Jack stop shaking bit by bit. His hands eventually stop being held so tightly and Jack’s heartrate finally settles into something that feels more like a caffeine hit than a heart attack.

The fear that Jack’s going to notice his chest hits him suddenly. he usually just tapes himself before morning skate, what if Jack notices? His own breathing starts to pick up and he forces himself to do as he’s preaching. It’s not the end of the world if Jack finds out. Its not.

But what if he does?

Jack heaves in a big breath and manages to whisper, “Can you…talk to me? Please.”

It snaps Shitty out of his own head, so he takes an equally big breath and obliges. He talks about his childhood, about his terrible father and distant mother, about discovering hockey and falling in love with it. He talks about his favourite music and his politics of gender class and the weird shit he’s seen people do in Founders. Anything except the fact he’s not cis. He talks until his throat gets dry and until the tremors in Jack’s muscles stop enough for him to turn around and hug Shitty around his waist.

“Thanks Shits.”

The ferocity of the hug leaves Shitty blinking down at Jack. He takes a moment before reciprocating, gently resting his hands on Jack’s back. Until now it had mainly been Shitty instigating physical contact with Jack, his usual patented bro physicality that let people think he was an open book. But now Jack is sitting here on the floor of his bathroom, letting himself cry onto Shitty’s t-shirt and they’re late for morning skate but he doesn’t really care because motherfucking Hockey Robot Jack Zimmermann trusts him.

“No problem Jack.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _I’m a dude and I’m trans._ _I’m a dude and I’m trans. I’m a dude and I’m trans._ Shitty stares at his reflection in the mirror as he mutters the words to himself. He catalogues the thickness of his moustache, the bushiness of his brow, how his face has gotten sharper. How would a conversation like this even go?

_Hey Jack! Hows it going my best bro?_

_Shits please keep your pants on when you’re in my room._

_I love you man you’re so funny. Also, I’m a trans dude please still be friends with me._

He thinks it’s beginning to work, the mantra, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to spit the words out when the time comes.

The plan he’s formulated so far involves acting as naturally as possible during their next study hang out and then blurting it out and leaving immediately so he doesn’t have to see or hear Jack’s reaction.

He knows it’s probably not ideal but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to dwell on the potential outcome.

So, he sends Jack a quick _hey wanna study history of politics together at mine?_ And then waits.

The reply comes twenty minutes later, a brief _Ok._

Now that it’s actually happening he can already feel his heart pattering rabbit-like in his chest, the nervous sweat clinging to his skin making him feel slightly feverish, oh god he’s actually doing this.

He jumps when Jack knocks on the door, rushes over to open it, nearly falling over in his haste and pulls it open, a horrible fake-casual smile plastered onto his face, “Wassup bro! Studying right!”

Jack pushes into the room past Shitty, frowning, “You alright Shits?”

“Sure I am bro, completely cool.” The forced laugh that pushes out of Shitty’s tight chest makes him wince a little.

Jack continues to frown at him, “Are you sure-”

“I’m trans a trans dude a transgender man if you will okay thank you goodbye I’m not taking questions,” he pushes out in one breath and starts walking towards the door before remembering that this is his room and _shit_ he really didn’t think this through properly.

“Okay,” Jack says slowly. Shitty turns back to look at him, face set in a grimace, “Is this going to affect your ability to play?”

Shitty blinks, of fucking course Jack’s first thought is hockey, “What the fuck man?”

Jack’s face is still set somewhere between confusion and bewilderment, “I…I mean, you’re still going to be on the team, right?”

Shitty just shakes his head, “Man, I thought we were better friends than that… You’re a goddamn hockey robot you know that Zimmermann?” and he leaves, Jack staring after him at the closed door.

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so maybe calling him a robot was a bit harsh. But _goddamn_ is Shitty pissed. His hands are balled tightly into fists shoved deeply into his pockets and his shoulders are hunched tensely around his ears. He barely registers the sting of the cooler evening air as he strides forwards, not looking to see where he’s going, just trying to work off the frustration thrumming through him. His best friend. His best fucking friend’s first reaction to his whole goddamn situation is _hockey._ Shit. He wonders why he ever thought it would be a good idea. _Fuck_. Tears start burning at the corners of his eyes and he takes a gasping breath in, chest heaving from the speed of his walk and the height of his emotions. So much for support…

Shitty walks off his rage eventually, and finds his legs slowing as his blood stops pounding quite so loudly in his ears. What did he expect would happen? Jack might be his friend but the guy is pretty singularly focused on hockey. Shitty isn’t even sure he has friends outside of the team. Of course the first thing he would ask is if Shitty was still going to play. Never mind that he’s just come out for the second time ever, hoping that this time he’d get a little more emotion than he’d gotten from his father. It all seems like some fucked up sort of Freudian concept. Make friends with emotionally detached hockey robots to simulate the relationship you have with your father. _Fuck._

And he left without his key. _Fuck_.

Which means he has to go back to his room, his room which may or may not still contain Jack Zimmerman. _Fuck._

It’s like goddamn Schrodinger’s hockey player.

 

* * *

 

 

As he approaches his dorm he sees the light in his room is still on, which isn’t promising. But he has to play hockey near every day with the guy, so he might as well rip the band-aid off now.

He pushes open the door to his room, leaning against the door frame with his very best unimpressed face on.

Jack is sat at Shitty’s desk on his laptop and jumps to face him when he hears the door click shut.

“Jack-” Shitty starts.

“I’m sorry,” Jack stares down at his shoes, hands vaguely trembling, “I um… didn’t think I should make a big deal about you coming out, which came across as callous and cold and I do care about you, Shits. I’m sorry.”

Shitty sighs, if he’s going to do this he has to go all in, “My Dad wasn’t…the most supportive. It really meant a lot to me, how you’d react. So, it hurt man…when you went straight for hockey instead of like, something personal.”

Jack nods, still looking down.

“You’re like a brother to me Shits. I…” and suddenly he’s moving forward and embracing him.

And _Christ_ Shitty really didn’t want to cry but he’s been through about ten different emotions in the past half an hour and he thinks he’s maybe been waiting to hear those words his whole life so he lets the hot tears track down his face.

As Jack pulls away Shitty wipes at his eyes and smiles, lips wobbling a little, “Thanks bro.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a couple of weeks later when Jack comes up to Shitty after practise, “Can I talk to you?”

There’s something about the tense set of Jack’s jaw and the way he avoids eye contact as he says it that puts Shitty vaguely on edge, “Yeah sure dude, I’ll meet you outside?”

Jack just nods tersely, before heading briskly towards the locker room.

Shitty’s been stood on the steps to Faber for about five minutes, staring at a small flock of geese terrorising passing students, when Jack comes up next to him.

“So, I’ve been researching-” Jack starts, still pointedly not looking at Shitty.

“If you’ve got questions just go for it bro.” Shitty says, trying to work out why Jack seems so nervous.

“No. Its…I’ve sort of…” Jack takes a stuttering breath in and closes his eyes, “I’m bisexual.”

There’s a few moments of heavy silence that stretch, rubber band-like, between them, before Shitty is wrapping Jack up in a bear hug.

“C’mere man. I’m so proud of you for telling me that, thank you.” When he pulls back his eyes are shining slightly.

Jack looks, cheeks flushed, down at his shoes, “Yeah well…figured you’d feel better with some company, eh Shits?”

Shitty grins wide and slaps Jack on the back, “Come on, there’s a plate of pancakes at Jerry’s with my name on it. You in?”

And Jack follows, a sliver of white peeking through his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so im absolutely the worse at motivating myself at the best of times and im not a writer by nature but i tried to write somthing that hopefully would satisfy the prompt, if i were a different person i would have loved to write a beautiful 10k fic with lots of nice metaphors and shit but im just not capable, i hope you enjoyed what i wrote though! leaving a comment would help me out a tonne, ive never written for omgcp before so let me know what you think!
> 
> Come reblog this work and view others from this fest [HERE](https://omgcpheartbreakfest.tumblr.com/) on the omgcpheartbreakfest tumblr page!


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